Life, Love, and Rock 'N' Roll
by videogamelover221
Summary: Everyone knows that after the Cold War, Belarus went to stay at America's for a while. He decided that he needed to take her under his wing, but he needs to become friends with her first. How do people become friends? They find common interests. If America and Belarus have anything in common, it is their taste in music.
1. Nobody's Home

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or the song listed in the story. However, I do own the two charcters, the man with the coach and the Man in Black.

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Belarus's P.O.V.

"Sister, don't leave me!" a voice cried out.

Today is August 25, 1991, also known as the worst day of my life. The Soviet Union has collapsed, and my boss is forcing me to leave my big brother. Big Sister already left yesterday; I am one of the last ones in this mansion. I'm now packing my things away in cardboard boxes. Cardboard boxes are useful and cheap, and they make me happy for some reason. I only own one suitcase, and that will serve as my carry-on on the flight to _his_ house.

"Please don't leave like the others!" Big Brother was screaming from the other side of my door. I was trying my best to ignore him.

I have to pack all of my things in 15 boxes. Ten of them have priceless items in them, and they are going to my house. My boss's friends would be around later to take them back. The other five boxes have clothes and close valuables in them and are going to _his _house.

_Pound! Pound!_ "Belarus, please stay with me!" Big Brother pleaded.

I threw a book in my suitcase in frustration. "Go away!" I yelled. The pounding on the door ceased. I heard footsteps slowly slip away. I sighed and buckled my suitcase close. I clutched the handle and walked to the door. My head turned back at the lonely, empty room. I clenched the handle tighter and descended down the steps.

I dragged my feet to the kitchen where a man in black was waiting for me. He had dark hair and dark sunglasses on, even though there was overcast outside. He held out his hand towards me. "Do you want to hand me that, ma'am?" he asked.

"Nyet, I'm fine," I spat.

His face tightened up. Then he clenched his fist and pulled it away. "Alright then," he said.

"Just go get the first five boxes closest by the door for me. They are in my room, up the stairs to the right," I said to him.

"Okay, I'll be right back," he replied. Then he went up the stairs.

I glanced around the house. The walls were cracked and losing paint. You could visibly see green mold growing on the corners of the walls. The wood of the walls had see-through holes from termites. This place has been falling apart for a long time.

The Man in Black came back down with the two boxes in his arms. As he passed by me, "I will be back for the other three boxes. Can you open the door for me?" I nodded and followed him to the front door. I opened the door as he walked by me. I watched him from the doorway as he placed the boxes in the trunk of his black car. He came back to the door and said, "I will go retrieve the other boxes. You can wait in the car if you want, ma'am."

I shook my head. "I need to say something to my brother first," I said.

He gave me a sympathetic look. "Good luck and be careful. Mr. America won't be happy with me if something happened to you."

I rolled my eyes. "I can handle myself, thank you very much."

"Suit yourself," he said, and then he went up the stairs again.

I entered the living room where I knew Big Brother would be. He was sitting on an old, red chair by the fireplace. That chair has been with him since the days of the Czar. Big Brother would sit in that chair to think or when he was upset. It is the probably the latter today. His arms rested on the arms of the chair; his dark, violet eyes were locked on me. I stared back at him. "Let me ask you something," I spoke out.

It took him a moment before answering. "What?" he finally asked.

"Did you ever truly love me?"

He sharply turned his head away from me. "Nyet," he replied.

I gasped a little. I looked away from him for a minute and bit my bottom lip. My head turned forward as I said, "That's what I thought. I just never believed it until now. Goodbye, Russia." His head rotated back to me, surprised by the choice of name.

I stomped away from the living room to the doorway. The Man in Black was waiting for me there. He must have already put the other boxes in the trunk. "That was very brave of you ma'am," he said smiling.

I frowned and didn't reply. When we got to the car, he opened the backseat door for me, and I stepped in without question. He went to the front seat and drove away from the mansion. I stared forward as we drove off.

It was funny; America hated my family a few years ago, and now he was offering me a place to stay until I got back on my feet. I wouldn't have said yes if it wasn't for my boss. I simply don't trust him. What was his angle? Does he truly want to help me, or just find out some dirt on Russia? Whatever it is, I don't care anymore.

We were driving through the countryside to the Moscow airport. "Why didn't America come here himself?" I asked.

"His boss wouldn't allow him. Mr. America said he would have picked you up himself if it wasn't for him," the Man in Black replied.

I nodded because I know how bosses can be; making you do things that you don't want to do. I mean I have to go to a place full of ideas and lifestyles that I'm not used to; not to mention, I have to deal with Mr. America himself, Alfred F. Jones. Just thinking of his smug smile, loud laugh, and bold attitude makes my stomach churn. He has hated us Soviets since the end of World War II. Except for the past couple years; I have only seen America with the look of hate towards Russia. Every time I saw him, I wanted to slash his throat. Oddly though, his eyes would soften a bit when he saw me. I would just pull a knife out and show it as a warning sign. He would look away, but I do wonder though…I wonder.

*One car ride and plane ride later*

The Newark International Airport was bustling with people. It's like being at a world conference with all the languages being spoken. A man with an airline coach for luggage was following me with the few boxes I had, and I was carrying my sole suitcase. The Man in Black was close behind talking into his earpiece. He's contacting America, and I hope he finds him fast because all of the voices are giving me a headache, especially with the flight taking a long night to complete.

Then a loud, booming voice came through the noise of the crowd. "Natalia! Natalia Arloskaya! Someone shouted. I glanced behind me to see who was yelling my name to the whole world. Not to my surprise, it was America. He was wearing a brown suit that I have seen him in during world conferences; it always made him look surprisingly nice. Wait…I did _not_ just say that. America was also holding a sign with my name written on it.

I rolled my eyes and walked towards him. "Hello, Alfred," I greeted.

His eyes were shining with excitement. Why was he so damn happy? "I'm so glad you are finally here! We are going to do tons of awesomely-awesome things together!" he shouted. He grabbed my suitcase out of my hand. "Let's go!" He began marching away with the coach guy and the man in black following him like ducks in a pond. I was still standing with shock from what just happened. America ceased his steps and turned back to me. "Natalia, you coming?" he asked. I reluctantly nodded and ran to catch up to them.

"You're gonna to love my place, Belarus!" America exclaimed. "We can go see movies, go to the beach, get ice cream…"

"You are _supposed_ to teach me how to be a country again!" I interrupted.

He paused for a moment before quietly adding, "Oh yeah, that too."

The car was silent from that point on; his car was the latest edition of the Toyota Corolla XL. I only know that because America was bragging about his car when we first left the airport. I only got him to shut up about it by threatening him that I would put scratches on his car with my knife. He gave me a horrified look and became as quiet as a mouse…for ten minutes. Honestly, I didn't know he could stay silent for this long.

We were driving to his house outside of his capital. The Man in Black went back to America's boss's house, so I was alone with America. I had to have the windows down because it was so hot outside; I'm not use to this muggy hell-on-earth dry heat. America then continued to ramble on what we would do together. I knew it wouldn't be long before he would start talking again. It's so annoying being with such as cheery, upbeat person.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," he said suddenly. I looked at him with a surprised expression. "You must be thinking on how weird I'm being." Is this guy a mind reader or something? "I'm just trying to keep the mood light. You've been through too much, Belarus." He looked straight forward. "I promise to help you and keep you safe." I could feel my cheeks warming up, so I quickly turned away. I couldn't see him, but I know he was smiling to himself. Then he filled the car with his obnoxious laugh. "Hahaha! Enough depressed talk! Want some music on?" he asked.

"I don't care," I mumbled.

He flipped on the radio, and "I Want to Hold Your Hand" by the Beatles came on. "Oh dude, I love this song!" he exclaimed. "Can I keep it on?"

"Sure," I replied.

America started to sing along:

_Oh please, say to me_

_You'll let me be your man_

_And please, say to me_

_You'll let me hold your hand_

_I'll let me hold your h-h-hand_

_I wanna hold your hand_

I watched him in amusement as he sang along. His voice had a rich tone to it; I say he would be a great baritone or maybe even a tenor. America's singing voice didn't sound squeaky or annoying like it did when he talked. All-in-all, he could sing, but I would never tell him that. I would also never tell him that I liked the song too.

ABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABAB ABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABABAB ABABABABABABABABABABABABA

America pulled up his dusty driveway. His house was a huge plantation mansion. The red bricks were faded from time and the shudders were as pale as ghosts. He parked the car in front of his green door. After opening his car door, he stepped out and ran over to my side to open my door. He must be trying to impress me, but it didn't work because I walked right passed him without a single glance. The sun was high and the skies were clear. I made my way to the back seat to retrieve my suitcase. When I got my bag, I shut the door and looked up to see America holding three boxes; two were supported by his arm and shoulder and the other was in his free arm. He was making his way to the front door when I said, "America, you better be careful with those!"

He peered around his shoulder and replied, "Don't you worry, babe! I've been getting stronger lately."

Babe? That's it, his throat is getting slit. America advanced into his house, and I followed right behind him with my knife pointing at his direction. I was about to stab him in the back, but then I got distracted by his house. The walls were a light beige color, and the hallway floors were wooded but covered with a plain, light blue rug. Through the hallway was an opening to a room. America went right to the first opening; in it, was another hallway by some stairs. I didn't follow him because I was too busy looking around. Faintly, I heard a voice calling me from the room he was in. "Belarus, come on! I'll give you the grand tour later," America said. I fast paced to the stairs where I saw him on the second floor, leaning on the railing. I jogged up the stairs to meet him.

The upstairs hall was much like the first floor only with a few different paintings and decorative pieces. As we were walking, America started talking. "Most of these rooms are guest rooms or places for storage," he explained. "I used to tons of guests in here; that's why I have at least seven guest rooms." He chuckled. "No one really comes here anymore. It's nice to have someone here again." His voice seemed sad when he said that.

Why is he telling me this!? Can't he tell how much I don't want to be here? He is talking about being lonely…god, he has no idea what I've been through! I frown at the thought. America peered back at me; he smiled apologetically. "Sorry, didn't mean to upset you."

Before I could reply, he stopped in front of a white door. He opened it and flipped the lights on. It was a simple, light blue bedroom. There was a white closest and dresser; towards the back wall, there was a bed with lavender sheets facing us. A white nightstand was close to the bed as well. He placed the boxes near the end of the bed. "Well, I hope you like it. I went out to get new sheets yesterday," he said. He looked at me for approval.

"Da, it is…nice," I said.

He grinned and clapped his hands together. "I'll go get the other boxes. Be right back." He left with that.

I placed my suitcase on the edge of the bed. I sat on the bed and crossed my arms; my hands rubbed my upper arms. My eyes surveyed the room_. This is only temporary_, I told myself. I will only be here two months tops, and then I will be back in my cold, lonely home. That's the way it should be, I guess.

America came back up with remaining two boxes within five minutes. "Where do you want these?" he asked.

"Just leave them by the others," I mumbled.

"Alright," he replied. He sat them down by the end of my bed and went by the door. "Well, I'll let you get settled in. There is a guest bathroom is across the hall, and you can put anything you want in there. Do you need anything?" I shook my head no. He can't let me go back home. "O-okay, I'll be downstairs. Come down or shout if you change your mind." He left the room and went to the first floor, leaving me to my lonesome again. That is how it should be.

America's P.O.V.

Man, she is a piece of work. I can't really blame her though. She just declared independence from Russia, what, a day ago? I remember those days, long ago. I was so full of different emotions I didn't know how to deal with. I would've been destroyed if it wasn't for France and Prussia. I would've just acted with my hatred and betrayal and not use my head to make smart decisions if it weren't for them. That is why if she needs me, I'll be there for her. No one should go through this alone.

Then I heard the phone ring. I ran to the hallway phone to pick it up. "Hello?" I said.

"Hello, America," replied a disapproving, British man.

Oh boy, what does he want? "Hey Iggy!" I exclaimed. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to see if you were still alive," he sarcastically said. I could hear him snickering in the phone.

I rolled my eyes. "Ha, ha, ha, very funny. I…_we_…are doing just fine, thank you very much. She has only tried to kill me once." I laughed, but England didn't find it very funny. He was silent on the other line. "Look England," I said in a serious tone, "she was very quiet and distant today. She even didn't want to stop at a fast food joint to eat, and that is preposterous!"

England sighed. "I'm just saying that maybe you should let her go home. I'm sure it's obvious that she doesn't want to be there."

"England, she needs help! I know what she's going through, so I can help!"

"America, you don't always have to be the hero!" He was really getting angry with me.

"I have to be for her! If I don't help her, who else will?" I realized I was shouting, so I softened my voice. "She wants to go home…but there's nobody home. She has to realize that."

England was silent for a moment. Then he imputed, "Russia is still there."

I clenched my fist. "No way in hell I'm letting her go back to _him. _It's never going to work."

England sighed once again. "Alright. I can tell you are serious about this. Just be careful, okay?"

I relaxed and replied, "Okay, see ya Iggy."

"Oh would you quit calling me that, you git!" He sighed again. "Goodbye." Then he hung up immediately.

I hung up the phone on the receiver. As soon as I heard the click, I heard rustling upstairs. Great, how much did she hear? "Belarus! I hear you, come down please," I said.

A few minutes passed before she met me by the phone. "What do you want?" she asked coldly.

"Come with me," I said. She followed me to the kitchen. I went to the liquor cabinet. "What do you drink?"

"The hardest stuff you have," she replied. At first I went to the vodka, but I decided against it because it would remind her of Russia. I went to the whiskey instead. I poured two glasses, and I handed her one. She snatched it from my hand and chugged it. She held her glass out for more. Her eyes were still as cold as ice, but I could see a hidden sadness starting to break through her cold outlook.

"I'll give it to you, but this drinking-your-pain-away thing is only going to last a few days. Then we are going to move on, okay?"

She nodded as I gave her a refill. She drank more slowly this time as I told her, "I know you really don't want to be here. You did hear me on the phone just now, didn't you?" She jolted in shock and peered up for a moment; then she went back to her drink. "That's what I thought. I'm gonna to help you, not matter what it takes, so if that means drinking for a few days, then so be it. Then we are going to drop our sorrows, right?"

Belarus took her last sips. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes. "Yeah sure," she replied. Then she snatched the bottle from my hand and ran to her room.

I sighed and thought_, this is going to be a long process. _

Belarus's P.O.V.

I ran to my room with the whiskey bottle in hand. My body was leaning against the closed door. I slid down to the floor. I could feel the tears coming down from my eyes. That stupid American! Can't he let me drown in alcohol and tears? Why does he care? What does he have in store for me?

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A/N: Sorry for the pathetic use of a break line in the middle of the story! Anyway, what do you think so far? I would love to hear from you! There will be more references to music later in the chapters, particularly to rock music. I got this idea for a story while reading in the Hetalia Archives that Belarus likes to sing and likes rock music. Who else likes rock music? America! I also really love this couple, so I thought it was time for my Amebel story. I would like to thank my good friend, Shannon, for editing my story! Please review and please no flames!


	2. Take On Me

A/N: Hello! Before I start this chapter, I want to thank everyone who has followed and favorited this story so far! I hope this chapter is to your liking. I would also want to thank Hayden-Strife, Far0ut, I'veMadeItMyOTP, and sparklybutterfly42 for reviewing. If you review, I will credit you in the next chapter. I apologize in advace if the characters seem a little OC, but tough situations change people. The italics are flashbacks or the note; the bolded and italics means a conscious is talking. I do not own any Hetalia characters. Let the chapter begin!

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_Dear Belarus, _

_I have to go to my boss's house. They told me on the phone that it was an emergency. I'll be back as soon as I can! _

_-America _

She just stared at the note on the kitchen counter. Belarus was still in her long, white nightgown since it was morning. Her eyes glanced at the liquor cabinet. It has been a week since she moved in with America. He let her drink for a few days, but then he made her agree to stop drinking. Unfortunately, she could not help herself. America locked the cabinet, but Belarus used her knife to pry the door open to the whiskey.

A few hours later, America returned to the house. 'I hope she didn't do anything drastic,' he thought. He walked into the house to find the exact opposite of what he wanted. With rock music blaring all around the house, he ran to the living room where the stereo system was hooked up.

That's where he saw Belarus dancing around the room in just her nightgown. She had a bottle of whiskey in her hand, and she would occasionally stop to take a sip. America watched in utter shock. He could not believe he let it get this bad. The music was so loud that you could see the vibrations bouncing off the walls. Belarus jumped on the couch and began to sing along to the chorus of the song, using the whiskey bottle as a microphone:

_You're a heartbreaker_

_Dream maker, a love taker_

_Don't you mess around with me_

_You're a heartbreaker_

_Dream maker, a love taker_

_Don't you mess around, _

_no no no!_

She leaped off the couch with the last "no!" She turned her head and finally saw America. Belarus immediately froze like a deer in the headlights.

America held up his arms as a peace offering. "Belarus, it's ok-" he began, but she didn't stick around to hear the rest. She went over the couch and zoomed out the room. America immediately began to chase after her. She booked it up the stairs with him right behind her. He was a second too late because she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door in his face. She also locked it.

Angrily running his hands through his hair, he stomped away from the door. 'What do I do now?' he thought.

"_**Whatever you do, be gentle. Kill her with kindness. She isn't used to it,"**_a voice inside him said.

"Right," America said aloud. He took a few deep breaths and tapped on the door. "Belarus, unlock the door please," he said.

"No," she spat.

"Please, Natalia. We have to talk," he pleaded.

"I don't want to talk! I don't ever want to talk to you! Not now, not ever! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"I _did_ leave you alone and look where that got you!" As soon as he said that, a knife came through the door. America's reflexes kicked in, and he jumped back. It barely grazed his nose since only a tip of the blade went through. "Alright, fine! Be that way! I tried being nice to you, but it's no use. You're just a self-centered, Communist bitch!" he shouted. Then he stomped away from the scene.

From inside the bathroom, Belarus just stood there in shock. She was still in the position from when she threw the knife. 'That bastard! That free-world bastard!' she thought. Melting from her position, she retrieved the knife from the door. As she went back to her spot, she dropped it into the sink. She climbed over the bathtub and used the navy blue shower curtains to help her lay down. The curtains could not support her weight, and they collapsed with her underneath. It took a few minutes for her to recuperate from the incident, but she was fine. The whiskey bottle was still in her hand during all of that. There was only a quarter of it left. She took a sip.

"_**Nice going, smart one,"**_a voice said.

"Who said that?" Belarus asked aloud.

"_**I'm your conscience, stupid. You are just too drunk to notice,"**_it replied.

"What do you want?" she coldly asked.

"_**I just thought I should remind you of how pathetic you are."**_

"Wait, I thought a person's conscience is supposed to be nice."

"_**Not when you act like this. And since when are you nice? I am you."**_

Belarus scowled. "That's just great."

"_**Now, you really screwed up this time. You are damaging your body and you let that American hunk get away."**_

"Oh, please. I never wanted him in the first place."

"_**You can't lie to me, sweetheart. I'm you."**_

"Oh shut up!" Belarus was really getting tired of being showed up. She took a huge drink of her whiskey.

"_**Would you stop drinking that!"**_ her conscience screamed.

"Shut up! Besides, America gave me permission to drink, remember?"

"_**Yeah, for a few days. It has been a week."**_

Belarus took a sip. "Please, I am perfectly fi-." An uncomfortable feeling took over her throat. Her stomach was on fire, and the fire pit was traveling upwards. She practically threw herself over the tub to the toilet. She opened the lid and puked the poison out of her.

"_**If you hadn't kicked him out, he could have been here to hold your hair back,"**_the voice imputed.

She flushed the toilet and laid her head on the seat. "Quiet, you," she replied.

"_**Why don't you go apologize and accept his compassion?"**_

It took a moment for her to answer. She could feel her heart drop as she said her answer. "Because I don't deserve it." A tear fell down her pale face.

The voice became angry. _**"Stand up right now and face the mirror!"**_

Belarus grabbed the sink for support and hoisted herself up. Staring into her reflection, she noticed how drastically she had changed in a week. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was a tangled mess, and her teeth were beginning to stain yellow. Belarus poked her face because she could not believe what see saw.

The tone of the voice was softer._**"You definitely deserve his kindness right now. I should know because…"**_

"You are me," Belarus finished.

"_**Exactly."**_ The voice was pleased.

The mood seemed joyous for a moment until flashbacks came rushing toward her.

"_Not now, little sister," _her big brother once said.

"_I cannot talk now," _Russia had also said.

"_Leave me alone."_

"_Go away!"_

"_I will not marry you…ever!"_

Belarus kept remembering all the mean things he had said to her. She began to breathe heavily and run her hands through her scalp. One word was the worst thing he ever said to her though. Above of all other things, this one word sent her overboard.

"_Did you ever truly love me?" _she asked not too long ago.

"_No."_

Screaming in agony, she picked up the bottle from the bathtub. Belarus took a drink, but then stopped instantly. Her hand began to shake violently, and she threw the bottle towards the bathtub's direction. The bottle landed on the bathroom wall. The glass crashing was like music to her ears; it was like the chains on her heart were liberated. Tears were running down her cheeks like a waterfall.

A pair of feet came storming towards the bathroom door. "Natalia! Natalia, are you okay?" America shouted.

Belarus unlocked the door, and he barged right in. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that she was not physically hurt. Then he walked behind her and surveyed the room. His face quickly changed to face of pure shock and horror. There was a knife in the sink, the shower curtains were torn down, and there was glass all over the floor.

America shook his head and turned to face her. "Belarus, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean the things I said at all! It was just the heat of the moment and-"

America didn't get to finish because Belarus ran up to him and hugged him as tight as she could. "You talk too much," she said. Belarus was crying and…laughing.

America sighed in relief and hugged her back. They just stood in the mist of the destruction, embracing each other. After a few minutes, America muttered, "We gotta get away from all this glass."

She released him from her grip. "I'm not wearing shoes though."

He gave her a mischievous, boyish grin and picked her up bridal style. She gave out a yelp of surprise but did not complain. "Your chariot, my lady," he said dramatically. She playfully rolled her eyes. America carried her carefully across the hall to her room. He used hand and threw off some covers. He then placed her on the bed and tucked her in. "You get some rest now, my lady. Do you need anything?"

"I might need a bucket," she replied embarrassingly. "I have already vomited once."

He chuckled and said, "No problem." Then he hesitantly walked to the door. He placed a hand on the door frame and turned back to her. He gave her a smile and left the room.

Belarus's eyes flickered, and she let out a loud yawn. 'Finally, I can sleep peacefully,' she thought. Then she drifted off to sleep.

The sun was glistening through the window. Belarus's eyes flickered open. She quickly sat up, but that was a mistake. Her head was pounding a mile a minute. She placed a hand on her head to possibly make it feel better, but of course, it did not work. Her head continued to pound. Belarus glanced at the ground where she found a bucket full of vomit. She quickly placed a hand over her mouth and tuned away.

Belarus slowly got up from her bed on the opposite side of the bucket. She took tiny steps through her room and the hallway. She quietly descended down the stairs. There was a sweet aroma from the kitchen so she followed it. She entered the kitchen and found America eating French toast with a glass of orange juice. He peered up from his breakfast and smiled at her. "Mornin'," he greeted.

She groaned and sat down at the table. "What time is it?" she asked rubbing her eyes.

America glanced at the clock. "About nine o'clock," he replied.

"Nine!" she exclaimed. "How long was I out?"

"You went to bed around six, so I'd say about 15 hours."

She rubbed her hand against her forehead. "I have the biggest headache."

"Well, you did drink the whole liquor cabinet," he sarcastically said.

She covered her ears. "Would you pipe down, you stupid American?"

He laughed. "I've missed this." He stood up from his chair. "I'll make you some toast. I don't want you to upset your stomach."

"I'm not hungry. I just want a pain reliever."

America stared at her like she just killed a puppy. "You got to have something in your stomach for medicine! Besides, you must be starving." As if on cue, her stomach grumbled. "Ha,ha,ha! Two slices of toast coming right up!"

Belarus quit protesting because she knew it was no use. America made her two pieces of toast with some jam and gave her a glass of orange juice. She took a few nibbles at first, but then her hunger took over and she devoured the meal. When she was finished eating, America took her dish. Then he asked, "So are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

He placed their dishes in the sink. "What happened yesterday, and the past 50 years." His tone was very serious.

"I'm sure you don't want to hear all of it. It's not a good story."

He smirked and opened a cabinet. He got out a container of Advil and shut the cabinet door. He then sat down and placed the container on the table. "Take me on," he said using the same smirk.

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A/N: Well, what did you think? Was it good? I really hope it wasn't bad. The title is based on the song "Take On Me" by A-ha, and I read a headcannon that the song is America and Belarus's song. If you read the lyrics, it makes sense! The other song mentioned in this chapter is "Heartbreaker" by Pat Bentar aka my idol. She is an awesome singer, and I even saw her in concert! Loved it! Anyway, please review and no flames please! I also do not own the songs. The editor of this story is my friend littlemisscinderella (or I call her Shannon) on DeviantArt.


	3. Back in the USSR

Before I start, I want to tell you, the reader, a couple things. This chapter contains some heavy things since it's about Belarus's time in the Cold War. I also must warn you that there is some Dark!Russia in this. Tough/dark times changes people; that is why he seems so mean or even evil at some points in this chapter. There are a couple Russian words in this story, and I translated them at the bottom of this story. The italics are flashbacks, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I also want to thank I'veMadeItMyOTP, SpaxtheTurtleClogger, sparklybutterly42, and Crimson Dragon Devil for reviewing the last chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Hetalia characters.

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America was staring at me and waiting for my answer. The pill bottle was still sitting in front of me, so I took two pain killers out of the bottle and swallowed them with orange juice. He was still smiling and waiting for me to make a move. I sighed and said, "Let me take a shower first. Then we can talk."

America became alive with laughter. "Okay, go get yourself prettied up. I'll be in the living room."

Dramatically rolling my eyes, I agreed. I went up the stairs and into my room. I pulled out a maid-like dress from the closest and walked across the hall. The first thing I noticed was that the bathroom was clean. Memories of last night came flooding back to me. My mind brought back the argument with America and my conscience, and when I broke the whiskey bottle against the wall. I forced my brain to shake off those memories. When I came across the mirror, I examined myself. I could see bags under my eyes, and they were puffy. At least I didn't look as bad as yesterday. Turning the nob in the shower, I wondered how the conversation was going to go. I have to tell him everything I guess. I do not want a repeat of yesterday.

*One shower scene later…..this is awkward*

I pulled up my new, clean dress up my legs; I really needed that shower. I tied a bow behind my signature dress, and I created the bow on top of my head. I did not put on my tights because I saw no point to it. I opened the door and hesitantly walked down the hallway to the stairs. I am pretty sure I could trust America with my story, but you can never be too careful. I was so consumed with my thoughts that I didn't realize I had entered the living room until I heard America blurt out, "Yo, Belarus! You okay?"

"Huh?" I replied. I shook my head to wipe the thoughts away from me. "Yes, I am fine."

He gave me a sympathetic smile. I walked around the couch, and he patted the spot next to him. America was sitting on his leg and his arm was hanging on the top of the couch. I took his kind gesture and sat next to him. "Alright," he said as he stretched out his arms. "Tell me everything. I'm all ears."

I cupped my hands together, and I placed them on my lap. Then I took a deep breath. "Well…where do I start? Everything was fine and normal for me when the Iron Curtain was drawn. I followed Big Brother willingly and listened to everything he said. He would give me an order, and I followed it. I would die for him." America's eyes widened a little, but he did not say a word. "Most days were uneventful for me. I just wandered around the house with nothing to do. Lithuania would give me tea, and Big Sister would try to make conversation with me, but for the most part, I was quiet and orderly. When we would go to meetings, I would be right beside Big Brother, looking around for any possible threat. I could see in his eyes how he was pleased with me. I think I now realized that he was relieved to a have a bodyguard."

"I remember seeing you by him," America added. "You were pretty scary."

I gave him a triumphant smile. "Good. That means I was doing a job well done." Then the smile faded as I began to bring up the horrible things from the past. "Then at the beginning of the 60s, things were starting to go downhill. It began when Cuba started talking to Big Brother." America's face scowled at the sound of Cuba's name. "I knew I couldn't trust Cuba from the first time I saw him. Big Brother promised to protect him, if he could keep his missiles on Cuba's land, as you know. And of course, Cuba agreed to these terms. Ukraine was with me at the time. I remember us talking after they were finished with their meeting."

"_This is going to end badly. I just know it," Ukraine said in a worried tone. _

"_I'm sure it will be fine. You'll see," I reassured her. _

"Unfortunately, I was wrong." I paused for a moment as I remembered the day after the Cuban Missile Crisis was officially averted. I kept my hands together on my lap, and my eyes were peering down. "When Big Brother came back from Cuba's house, things began to change…"

_The Soviet mansion was quiet that day. The world could have ended yesterday. Big Sister and I were sitting in the living room, waiting for Big Brother to come home. We told the other residents to stay in their rooms. Then he finally came through the front door. He was all battered up, and his shoulders were sunk. His eyes looked hollow with bags underneath them. Russia walked to the doorway to the living room and stood there, blankly staring at us. _

_Ukraine stood up from the couch shakily to greet him. "Are you okay, Little Brother?" she asked. _

_He smiled meekly. "I am fine, Big сестра," he replied. He walked a few steps into the room and surveyed the area. "Where are the others?"_

_Big Sister and I glanced at each other. "We told them to stay in their rooms," I said. _

"_Why?" he innocently asked, but I could tell he was angry. _

"_We just wanted to spend a few minutes with you alone!" Ukraine exclaimed. _

"_I see," he said, lowering his eyes. Then he took off his coat and handed it to me. "Here, Little Sister, can you take this for me?"_

"_Sure," I replied without hesitation. As he handed me his coat, his dark, violet eyes glared into my soul. What was he thinking? My eyes widened a bit, and I took a few steps back behind him. _

_Suddenly, Ukraine's fists curled up, and she blurted out, "How could you and America do that? There are other people in this world beside you two! You should have left earlier before the whole crisis began!" Her eyes were full of rage and tears. My brother and I just stared at her in complete and utter shock. Her eyes softened. "Please Little браt,__I don't want to see anyone hurt, especially you." _

"_Ukraine, come here please," he said. His voice was deadly calm. When she came closer to him, Russia slowly caressed her face with a childlike smile. Then, with the same smile, he slapped her across the face. The slap was so hard that she fell to the floor. I gasped, but I did nothing to help her. My body was frozen in shock. Big Brother had never physically hurt her before. _

_Ukraine was lying on the ground, clutching her cheek in pain. Russia's smile went away, and his eyebrows furrowed. "You know better than to speak up to me," he spat. Noise came down the stairs. The Baltic Trio came bustling through the living room opening. Shaking like leaves, they asked what happened. "Nothing, just clean her up." He motioned to Big Sister. Lithuania and Estonia hoisted her up and lead her to the kitchen with Latvia right behind them. They left me alone with Russia. He turned around to face me. I shook my head at him. He attempted to come closer to me, but I threw down his coat and ran the opposite direction of him to my room. I barely spoke to him after that, for he had lost my respect. _

America stared at me with all the sympathy in the world. He laid his hand on my arm. "I'm so sorry the crisis put you in so much pain," he said.

"Don't worry about it. It was probably more traumatic for you anyway," I reassured him.

He looked over the couch out a window. "I remember that week very clearly. There was so much intense fear and panic. It was the closest thing to a real war between Russia and I." Then he turned his attention back to me. "Enough about me. Continue your story."

"Well, after that night, I tried my best to ignore Russia. I would stay in my room and wait for him to go to meetings. Then I would explore the mansion for things to do.

America's face scrunched up. "Sounds boring," he added.

I nodded in agreement. "That's when I decided to sneak out. I found ways to escape the house for a while. I even made a disguise." I laughed as I remembered my ridiculous outfit. "I wore all black, and I had a black scarf over my head, like a Babushka. I looked like an old Polish woman!" America laughed with me. "I would pay a bodyguard to take me to the closest town where I would explore the whole city on my own for a few hours. Then he would come back to take me back to the mansion."

"Weren't you afraid that they would tell Russia?" America questioned.

"I made sure that they were loyal because I would threaten them." I showed America my knife. Then he flashed me a disappointed look. "What can I say? It was tough times. Plus, all the Soviet tenants thought I was in my room all day. No one wanted to associate with me, so I wasn't afraid of leaving early in the morning with a note on my door saying "DO NOT DISTURB." I had it all figured out."

America smirked. "You are a smart cookie."

I grinned back. "Yes, but that's not the point I wanted to get across. On the first day of my town outings, I wandered into a black market."

_The city of Moscow was large, but I easily made my way through the city. There were police dressed in all black all around the city, lurking on every block. Then as I traveled deep into the city, through the deep cracks of the alleyways, there was a tent. The tent was dark purple and it was sized to fit a traveling circus. I glanced sideways to see if anyone was following me. When I decided it was safe, I peered inside of the tent. I discovered it was a market, a black market. I have only heard rumors about them. Somehow, these vendors got their hands on things from the free world. If I found this place a few months ago, I would have reported the people to Big Brother. Now I applauded their rebellious ways. _

_I decided to check out the market. Examining my surroundings, I entered the dark tent. There were trinkets and basic supplies for living all around the market. I had some money attached to me but not much. Then a shiny, black round thing attained my attention. Music? Well, I did once hear from the guards how people in the free world often rebelled through music. By the album covers, this type of music looked forbidden and dangerous. It looked like my kind of music. I went up to the vendor with much interest. "Hello sir," I greeted. _

"_Good afternoon Madame," the vendor replied. He was an older man, I would say about mid-fifties. He had a stubbly, grey beard, and he had on a white buttoned-down shirt and black, baggy pants on. There was a black brae on top of his head; there was also a black eye patch over his left eye. _

"_I would like one of your records, пожалуйста." _

_He raised an eyebrow in surprise but then grinned. He asked, "Which one, ma'am?"_

_There were about twenty records in his little shop. I did not know which one would be the best for me. I just knew that they were English. "Which one do you recommend?"_

"_Well, Britain and America are releasing good music right now. Here." He handed me two albums. _

"_The Beatles and Elvis Presley?"_

"_They are hot right now in the Western World, especially in America." _

_I smirked at the sound of that name; that's when I knew that these were the records for me. "I'll take them. How much?"_

"_6558.02 rubles." _

_The price was a little much, but this was a black market. I handed him the money from my coin purse. I tuned to leave, but then I turned back for a moment to say, "Thank you, sir. I will be back." _

_The man beamed. "I will be waiting, miss." _

_I made my way back to the mansion. Luckily, Big Brother wasn't home. I ran up to my room with the records covered safely under my coat. I took them out of my coat and placed them carefully on my bed. Now I had to obtain a record player. Lucky for me, I had a way of getting one. _

_I heard a noise coming from downstairs, so I quickly hid the records in my stockings drawer. I left my room and went by the stairs. Big Brother was hanging his coat up in the closet by the front door. I jogged down the stairs to greet him. "Hello, Big Brother. Would you like some coffee? You were gone for a long time," I said in my sweetest voice. _

_He stared at me for a moment; a look of surprise was on his face. Then he smiled and replied, "That would be lovely." _

_After that, I began to do chores for Russia. I would make him coffee, clean his laundry, and escort him to meetings. He would never let me in the conference room though; he always told me to wait on the other side of the door. I never argued with him, and he was happy to have his bodyguard again. I would happily do these tasks because I was so excited to finally hear the albums sitting in my drawer. _

_A few weeks later, I decided it was time to ask him. On a cold evening, Big Brother was at home; he was sitting in his arm chair. He was reading the daily newspaper and drinking the coffee I had just made for him. Ukraine was sitting on the couch, and she was knitting a new scarf. I entered the room as Lithuania was pouring him a new cup of coffee. With my hands shaking like leaves, I went up to him. "Big Brother, can I ask you something?" I asked. Lithuania left Russia's side. _

_He glanced up from his paper. "What is it?" he replied. _

_I peered around my shoulder to see Big Sister and Lithuania ceasing from what they were doing. "I was thinking on how much I miss you when you are away," I began. "Then I thought on how we would go to ballets. I used to love listening to the beautiful music. Then I remembered how they created the record player so many years ago. I was wondering if you could obtain a modern record player for me. I can listen to ballet music again without interfering with your schedule." _

_Russia leaned his arm on the arm of the chair to rest his head on his hand. He sat there for moment thinking. I stood in front of him, biting my lip in anticipation. "That's going to be a lot of money, Little_ _сестрa," he said._

_I raised my hands in front of me. "I know, but I promise that I will take good care of it. I won't bother you anymore, and I will do anything you ask of me." _

_He thought for a few minutes more. Then he said, "Fine, since you've been such a big help lately, I will get you one by the end of the week."_

_I was cheering inside my head, but I had to keep my composure. "Thank you so much, Big Brother!" I exclaimed, bowing my head. _

"_You're welcome. You may go back to your room," he said. Then he went back to his newspaper. I turned around to leave. Ukraine went back to knitting, and Lithuania returned to the kitchen. They listened to the whole conversation, but I did not care. As I went to my room, my lips spread to form the biggest smile that I could muster. _

"That was very sneaky of you," America mused. His smirk was very prominent.

I grinned at the comment. "I had to be to get want I wanted; I was on my own. After all, I am a self-centered, Communist bitch." I raised an eyebrow at him.

America's face dropped; he began to scratch the back of his head in embarrassment. "Belarus…" he started.

I raised a hand at him. "Don't. It's okay. Tensions were high, and I understand where you were coming from." America's shoulders relaxed as we dropped the subject. "Now...let me continue my story." He stayed silent and nodded.

_The end of the week arrived, and the record player came! That Saturday morning was bright and happy for once. I went down the steps with a skip in my step. I saw it sitting in the living room. It was a small, grey box; it had a cover made of glass on top of it. The record player was placed on table; two speakers were surrounding it. Staring in awe, I ran my hand over the cover. I finally reached my goal; there was a record player in my possession! _

_All of a sudden, a hand landed on my shoulder. "Do you like it, Little Sister?" Russia asked, his voice ringing in my ears. _

_I turned on my heels to face him. "I love it, Big Brother! Thank you very much," I replied. _

"_I also got you these." He held out three records with ballerinas painted on the outside of them. "You need something to listen to." His voice was sweet with no underlying tone of disgrace or coldness. _

_I gently took the records from his hands; I flashed him a giant smile. "Thank you so much, Brother." _

_He walked over to the machine and placed a hand on it. As he continued staring at it, he said, "You may keep this in your room while I am away. I bought four speakers for this, so you can keep two in your room." Then his eyes flickered towards me. "However, when I come home, I want this down here, so I can listen to the music as well." _

_Although I didn't want to share my record player, I nodded in agreement. After all, he did buy it for me, and no one spoke against him. "Of course, Big Brother!" I exclaimed. _

"_Lithuania and Estonia will help you carry it to your room. Isn't that right boys?" he added. They were cleaning the hallway as he said this. He gave them a deadly glare; they winced and nodded energetically. They dropped their cleaning supplies, and they proceeded to take the record player and two speakers up the stairs. _

America closed his eyes and shook his head. "Those poor countries, always being bullied and ordered around by the top dog," he mused.

I nodded in agreement. "The sad thing is that they were used to it. Every time I saw them, their eyes were full of fear and sadness. I now regret never trying to help them."

My hands were on my knees as I was sitting in an upright position. America placed a hand on my hand. "It's okay, things were different," he said, comforting me.

My face instantly formed a smile from those words. "You always know to what to say, huh?"

He gave me a sheepish grin as he shrugged his shoulders. "Well…I try." Then he raised his eyebrows in excitement. "Now, tell me about the record player! How did it sound?"

I sighed happily and stared off into the distance. "You should have heard it; it sounded like a dream." I closed my eyes for a moment to reminisce the sound. Then I looked at America again. "I waited to put my rock records into it until Russia left. I did listen to the ballet music before he left. The record player sounded great, but it was more suited for a fuller sound. I remember the day when rock music came to the USSR very clearly.

_A couple weeks after I was given the record player, I was woken up by the sound of a car approaching the mansion. My eyes sprung open, and I threw the covers off. Can it be? I ran to the window in my room. My thoughts were a reality. I saw Big Brother glance back at the mansion and then step into a black van. A few minutes later, the car drove away. I took a few steps back from the window. I clapped my hands together, and I ran out of my room._

_Since it was early, I quickly tiptoed around the upstairs hall. There was no one close to my room awake. I went back to my room and closed the door. I lay against the door for a moment. Today was the day. _

_The record player was lying on a table in the corner of my room. One of Big Brother's guards taught me how to use it, so I knew what I was doing. I walked to my rock record's hiding place and picked up the Beatles album. I opened the glass lid, and I placed the record into the player. I put the needle on top and waited for the first song to begin. I made sure the volume wasn't too loud, but I really wished I could crank it up all the way. _

_The song started with a countdown and a guitar intro. Then the singers began to sing. I looked at the back of the cover to see the song selection; the song was called "I Saw Her Standing There." The music filled the room with positive feeling and hope. I placed the album cover on my bed by my pillow. I began to dance with the upbeat music. My body didn't care that I was creating noise; my feet just danced. I felt free for the first time. Alas, the feeling didn't last long. Footsteps were tumbling towards my door. _

_I swore under my breath as I ran to turn the music off. A knock came to my door. "Who is it?" I asked gritting my teeth. _

"_Little Sister? It is me," Ukraine said. "Can I come in?"_

"_Sure," I muttered as I opened the door. _

_Ukraine had a long, white nightgown on with a see-through robe over it. She also had on white, fuzzy slippers and her yellow headband on the top of her head. She entered my room and surveyed it. "What was all that noise?" she asked. _

_I placed my hands behind my back. "Noise? I didn't hear anything." I sounded as guilty as a child whose hand was caught in the cookie jar. _

_She stared at me with a funny look, but then her eyes peered over my shoulders to the album cover. "What is that?" She went closer to it. _

_Damn, I was caught for sure. I wasn't going down without a fight though. I leaped onto my bead and placed a pillow over the cover. "I have no idea what you are talking about." _

_She placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. Ukraine wasn't taking any crap from me today (plus, she was cranky in the morning). I sighed in defeat, and I gave her the album cover. "The Beatles: Please Please Me?" she read aloud. Her eyebrows rose in shock, and her head snapped to me. "Where did you get this?"_

_I rolled my eyes away from her. "Umm…the Moscow…" I mumbled the next part, "black market." I squeezed my eyes shut as I waited for her wail. _

"_You went to a black market!" she exclaimed. _

_I put a finger in front of my lips. "Sshh! Don't tell it to the whole world!" _

_She immediately became quiet; she sat on my bed next to me. Ukraine still had the album cover in her hands. Her hands began to shake as tears fell down her face. "No wonder you wanted the record player so badly," she quivered. _

_I didn't know what to do, so I did what came naturally. I placed a hand on her shoulder. "Please don't cry, Big Sister. I'm sorry; I won't do it again." _

"_No," she said firmly. She pushed my hand off her shoulder. "I can tell that this music makes you happy. I'll be damned if I take away your only happiness from you." _

_My mouth was agape. I have never heard Big Sister talk like that before. "That means…you won't tell?"_

"_Nope, I promise," she said. I immediately hugged her. She giggled and hugged me back. _

"_Thank you, Big Sister." _

"_You're Welcome, Little Sister." Then she broke the hug. "You just have to watch your back. You're lucky that it was me checking up on you and not one of Brother's guards." _

"_Don't worry, I have that covered." I removed my knife from under my pillow. _

_She laughed and said, "You can be so scary at times, but I still love you." _

_I laughed along with her. "I love you, too."_

_She kissed me on the forehead. "I'm going to try to attain another hour of sleep. Try not to be so loud?"_

"_No promises," I replied. _

_She grinned at me and then went to the door. She opened the door and turned back to me. "Goodnight, Sister," she said._

"_Goodnight, Sister," I repeated. Then she left the room and closed the door behind her. _

America had his head resting on his fist, and his bright blue, sky-like eyes were staring at me. "Wow, that was beautiful," he said sincerely.

I crossed my legs. "Yeah, she really saved me that day. She showed me that she really does care about me. Big Sister also gave me good advice." I replied.

"How long did you keep the secret life up?" he asked.

"I smuggled records for years after that event. I hid the records in my drawers, closet, and under a floorboard beneath my bed."

America nodded as he understood. "So you never got caught?"

"By Russia," I added. "I got caught by other inmates, but I had ways to keep them quiet." I again pulled out my knife from under my dress.

He closed his eyes and laughed nervously. "Ha, ha, ha, that's my girl."

I blushed slightly at the comment, so I turned away. To change the subject, I said, "I also had a good source to new music."

"Oh yeah, that black market vendor right?"

I nodded. "Yep, I became his number one customer. He told me to call him Dmitri, but I never told him to call me anything. I couldn't risk it, so he would always say, 'hey you!' when he saw me.

"What kind of music did you get?"

"I would usually buy rock music from different artists, starting from the Beatles and Elvis to Fleetwood Mac and Def Leopard. I tried KISS's disco album, but I just couldn't."

America barked out a laugh. "Trust me, no one could."

I smiled as I remembered the happy times. "Life was good during the 70s and mid-80s. I kept buying new music without any fear of being caught by Russia. Then…1987 came."

America frowned at the tone of my voice. "This doesn't sound good."

I stared down at my lap. "It was around late November, 1987. I put on my disguise, and I made my way to the Black Market like usual…"

_The streets of the city were a little more bare than usual. I didn't think much of it though; people could be working. I entered the black market tent, and it was deserted. Okay, something was definitely wrong. All of the stands were stripped bare; only the skeletons of the stands existed. My heart began to race, and my hands were sweating as I realized something. Dmitri. I ran to his station shouting, "Dmitri! Dmitri!" _

_When I got to his station, Dmitri and his records were gone. I raised my hands to my mouth in despair. "Did you really think that I wouldn't find out eventually?" snarled a sinister voice. _

_I turned on my heels to face the voice. It was Russia with his hands behind his back, and a cruel smile on his face. "What happened to Dmitri? What did you do to him?" I glanced around the market. "What did you do to all of them?" _

_He kept his smile on his face, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Let's just say," he leaned in closer to my ear, "they paid a visit to the police." _

_I gasped and took a few steps back. I shook my head. "No…you didn't!"_

_His smile grew so big that he showed his teeth. I collapsed on my knees. They were dead; they were __**all **__dead. Two guards grabbed my arms and lifted me up "Take her home. We are going to have a little talk," Russia said. He was going to punish me big time, but I didn't care anymore. As soon as I entered that tent, my life was over. _

_When we entered the mansion, the guards placed me on a chair in the living room. They stood on both sides of the chair. My depressed eyes stared at Russia's feet. _

_He stood before me with his arms crossed. "Now, where are the records?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. I didn't move a muscle. "Where are the records!?" he asked a little louder. I still stayed silent. He kneeled down to my level; he grabbed my chin, forcing me to make eye contact. "I'm only going to ask one more time, where…are…the…records?" I glared into his eyes for a moment; then I sharply turned away. _

_Russia gave out a cry of rage and pulled out his pipe out of nowhere. He kept it raised and breathed heavily. I looked up at him. His violet eyes that I once considered the most beautiful things in the world were now clouded with hate and confusion. We had a stare-off for a moment. Then I said, "I will never tell you. I won't let you take any more precious things from me!"_

_Russia pulled back his pipe. Then he replied, "Fine, if you won't tell me, I'll find them myself!" Before I could react, he snapped his fingers, and the two guards held me down on the chair as two more guards emerged from the kitchen. "Upstairs, now! You know what to do," Russia commanded. _

"_No!" I screamed. The three of them ran up the stairs to my room. I thrashed around in my seat and screamed at the top of my lungs. My voice was beginning to become hoarse, but I ignored my pain. My head was pounding, and my heart was racing. I couldn't believe what was happening. I could hear them tearing through my things upstairs from my chair. Years of hard work were getting destroyed, and I could not do anything about it._

_About ten minutes later, they descended down the stairs with all my records in their evil hands. They walked out to the front, but before Russia walked out the door, he told the guards holding me to down to turn my chair to face the window. Then he followed the other guards to a fire barrel. "неt," I whispered. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit it. "брat, пожалуйста!" Then he threw the lighter in the barrel. I watched in horror as all my records were lit on fire. The flames of hell were reflected in my eyes. I cried out to the heavens as the ashes of my freedom floated to the sky. My rebellion…my freedom…was dead. _

_When the fire cooled down, Russia came back into the house. He ordered the guards to release me. I stood up and glared into his eyes. "You monster!" I yelled. Then I shoved him away, and I ran to my room. As I ran through my bedroom door, I examined the damage. It was destroyed as if a tornado came through. I slammed my door, and I leaped onto my bed. Then I cried until I physically could no longer produce any more tears. _

The room was quiet for a moment. I glanced at America; his whole body was shaking, and his head was turned away from me.

I reached out a hand to him. "America, are you-" I was cut off by him pulling me into a hug.

"Natalia…I promise I will get you all of those records back! I promise!" he yelled.

His grip on me was tight as if he never wanted to let go. I let him hold me for a few minutes; then I smiled and pulled away. "America, you don't have to…"

He placed a finger on my lips. "Don't you try to talk me out of it. I already made up my mind. We'll go to the record store and…"

I rose up my hands. "Oh will you shut up for a minute!" He immediately stopped in mid-thought. I took a deep breath and lowered my hands. 'Wait here for a moment."

Then I went up the stairs to get two things from my suitcase. Then I scurried back to the living room. I held out two records and gave them to America. His once scowled face broke out into a smile. "The Beatles and Elvis Presley?" he read aloud. He glanced up at my smirking face. "But how?"

"You can thank my sister," I replied.

_I stayed in my room for a week straight. I only left my room for the bathroom or for water. I did not even eat. Then at the end of the week, I heard the Soviet van leave the premises. I peered out my window the see Russia leave with his entourage. At least I didn't have to see him for a long time. _

_I went back to my bed and sat up against my headboard. What was I going to do now? My records are gone…all of them. I would give anything just to have one. Russia even took the ballet records. He stripped me completely of all music. Damn him! _

_A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. "Who is it?" I asked. _

"_Little Sister, it is me," a feminine, motherly voice replied. _

_I lay back down on my bed and pulled the covers over me. "Go away! I don't want to talk anyone!" I shouted. _

_Ukraine hesitated for a moment before saying, "I have some food for you. Please, Little Sister. You must eat something." _

_I thought for a moment. Well, Russia was gone, so I guess it was fine. "Alright, come in." _

_Ukraine slowly walked through the door; she was a nightgown with a thick robe over it. Unfortunately, the robe could not cover all of the scars from the Chernobyl accident. She wasn't lying about the food though; there was a tray of food and a cup of water in her hands. I sat up for her as she struggled to shut the door. Then she placed the tray on my lap. I immediately started placing the various foods in my mouth. She sat at the edge of my bed and watched me eat for a couple minutes. Then she said, "I know you must being going through a difficult time right now." I peered up at her for a second and then continued to eat. "I wish I could have done more that night." _

_I swallowed what was in my mouth. "Listen Sister, there was nothing you could do…wait a moment…what do you mean more?"_

_A smile grew on her face. "Wait right here." Then she jumped up and skipped out the room. What was going on? A few minutes later, Ukraine came back with a pillow. The strange thing about the pillow was there was square stuffing in it. Wait a second…can it be? She pulled out two records from the pillow. It is! It is! _

_As my face lit up, her smile grew. She sat on the edge of the bed again and handed me the two records. They were my first two records that I first got from Dmitri, The Beatles and Elvis. I hugged them tightly. "How…how did you do it?" I asked. _

_She sighed. "It wasn't easy. Russia basically had a suspicion of the rock music and beat the information out of the Baltics. Then when he left to go fetch you, I ran to your room and took these two records from your drawer. I placed them in a pillow case and hid them in my room. Then I had to wait for the perfect time to give them to you." She smiled as she said the last comment. _

_I attacked her with a hug; she almost fell over. Ukraine exploded with laughter. "Thank you so much, Big Sister." _

_She returned the hug. "You welcome, Little Sister." _

"She is awesome!" America exclaimed.

I nodded in agreement. "She really is."

Then his face lit up with an idea. "Hey do you want to listen to one of them?"

My eyes brightened up. "I would love that! I haven't heard them since that event. It was too dangerous." My head fell a little.

He placed a hand under my chin to lift my head. "You have nothing to worry about here."

I smiled as I gave him the Beatles album. He placed it in his record player and "I Saw Her Standing There" came on. He grabbed my arms, and we started to dance. We swayed with the fast beat of the music. I laughed as he did weird dances. We both sang along to the song.

Towards the end of the song, he told me, "I'm still taking you on an outing, you hear?" He pulled me close as the song ended and changed to the next one.

Luckily, he couldn't see my face turning red. "Fine, you win. I will go."

"Woo-hoo!" He picked me up and twirled around. Then he sat me down to face him. "It's going to be the best day ever!"

* * *

A/N: *Breathes* Phew, that chapter took me so long to create. I started writing this in the middle of May. I know, I'm terrible. Anyway, what did you think of it? I hope you didn't think it was that bad. Also before you ask, 1 rubble is .03 us dollars. I apologize if there is any Russian mistakes. I used WordReference as my guide. I want to thank Shannon (littlemisscinderella on deviantart) for editing! Now, please review and no flames please! I also promise that the story will be fluffier as it continues!

Russian lesson:

сесtpa is sister

браt is brother

пожалуйста is please

неt is no_  
_


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